


Pound Cake

by kingsofeverything



Series: the butthole series [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Harry, Best Friends, Birthday, Cake, Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roommates, based on a tumblr post that probably started as a tweet?, dumb jokes, sorry to the tumblr and twitter users whose jokes i'm stealing for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:42:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: It's Harry's birthday and his best friend Louis bakes him a cake.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: the butthole series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554937
Comments: 30
Kudos: 133





	Pound Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts).



> I was looking for something else in my Google docs and found this. It's super short and stupid and not betaed, but I wanted to make Nic laugh. Anyway! Love you, Nic ❤️
> 
> [Fic is based on this post](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/190664762400)

Twenty-seven feels so much older than twenty-six, but Harry keeps that to himself since Louis just turned twenty-nine, and his best friend isn’t handling it all that well. 

He’s been weird since Thanksgiving, and at first Harry thought he’d caught onto the crush he’s had on him for the last three years, but then things were kind of normal between them, so Harry wrote it off as regular holiday stress. But then it carried through December, and he was extra melancholy on Christmas, even with the surprise party he and Niall threw for him. 

The cake Harry made had taken days. In his spare time at the bakery, he’d planned, baked, decorated, and then done it again when he didn’t like the way the first one turned out. But it was all worth it, just to see the smile on Louis’ face, though it didn’t last for long. 

Most years, Harry works on his birthday. This year is no different. With no boyfriend to take him out to celebrate and a pouty best friend who doesn’t seem to want to do anything at all anymore, Harry would rather be at the bakery anyway. Maybe he’ll order pizza for dinner, make the day as boring as possible, and then he can pretend to still be twenty-six for another few weeks until he goes home to visit his mom. 

Harry trudges up the steps of their building, wishing they had an elevator, but knowing he wouldn’t take it anyway when they live on the third floor. He needs a shower, a beer, and maybe an orgasm. If he’s lucky, he can combine all three at once. 

As soon as he opens the door, he knows it’s not happening because Louis is home when he’s supposed to be at work, the apartment smells like baked goods and burned  _ something, _ and there are presents!

“Presents!” Harry squeals and drops his bag by the door, kicking it closed, and clapping his hands. “Yay!”

“God, you’re like a five year old,” Louis says, but his voice is fond, so Harry ignores his comment.

“Who are they from?” Harry asks, checking each package for a tag, but finding nothing. 

“Me,” Louis says, pursing his lips and scrunching his nose.

“Lou, you— We said no birthday gifts!” Harry tears into the wrapping on the smallest box because, while he might say he doesn’t want presents, he’s not going to turn them down when they’re already here. The smallest box holds a controller for Louis’ PlayStation and Harry holds it up for Louis to see. “Why’d you give me your controller?”

“That’s yours, Harold. Mine’s red.” 

“I get my own? I thought you’d make me play with the one with the broken knobs,” Harry says, setting it aside to open the next box. 

“They’re called joysticks, man.” Louis reaches for the box in Harry’s hand and sets it back on the table. “Come to the kitchen for a minute. Want you to see something.”

“Okay…” Harry sniffs the air as he lets Louis drag him out of the living room by the hand. “Is this when you tell me you set the place on fire while I was at work?”

Louis scoffs. “No. I didn’t.”

On the kitchen counter is a bundt cake, and it’s slightly over cooked, browned all over. To Harry’s eyes it looks like…

“A butthole,” Harry says.

“Harry!” Louis huffs and crosses his arms. “I made you a cake and that’s what you say?”

“You made this?” Harry steps closer and peers down at it. It legitimately looks like a giant sized butthole. Maybe that’s why he’s always liked bundt cakes. 

“Yeah, I… I knew you weren’t looking forward to today, so I thought—”

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Louis says with a shrug. He glances down at the cake. “Oh! Forgot the glaze.”

On the counter beside the cake is a measuring cup full of what Harry knows is sugar glaze, but what looks like  _ semen.  _ And he watches as Louis drizzles it all over the cake. He sets the measuring cup in the sink, and turns to Harry with a smile. 

God, he’s so cute. Harry wants to kiss him. But that’s not what best friends do. Instead, as he always does when his feelings get the best of him and he has to deflect, he makes a joke.

“Looks just like a butthole covered in come!” Harry cackles and slaps his knee, bending in half when Louis gasps, clearly offended. 

“Harry Styles, you’re an asshole.”

That’s not at all how Louis usually reacts to Harry’s attempts at humor. In fact, Louis always laughs at his jokes, even when they’re really not funny. Harry straightens up and bites his lower lip. “Sorry. I—”

“You know what, never mind.” Louis shoves past him and stomps off to his room, but Harry follows at his heels, and Louis slams the door in his face.

“Sorry, Lou!” he calls through the closed door. “I’m really sorry! I—”

Harry jumps back when the door swings open because Louis looks scary when he’s actually mad. Though Harry’s never been on the receiving end of his anger. Not really. 

“You’re a real dickhead. I did something nice for you and I was going to tell you—” Louis snaps his mouth closed and slams the door again.

“Lou!” Harry bangs on the door and it opens. He stands in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where Louis is, exactly, but then he appears from inside his closet, holding a pair of skinny jeans in one hand and a sheer black t-shirt in the other. His  _ going out to get fucked _ clothes. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Louis says, shoving his sweatpants down, and Harry covers his eyes so he isn’t tempted to gawk at Louis’ partially naked body. “Am I that awful, then?”

“What?” Harry asks, dropping his hands from his face. 

“You can’t even look at me because I’m that… gross or something?” Louis shakes his head and throws his dirty, cake batter splattered shirt onto the floor. 

“No! I just… I don’t want to objectify you or like… I don’t know. Make you uncomfortable?”

Louis snorts. “Objectify? You’re ridiculous, man. Happy birthday,” he says, and pushes past Harry into the hallway. 

“Wait!” Harry yells, and Louis turns around. “Louis, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry about the joke about the cake and about, um… not looking at you? Please don’t be mad. Please don’t… Don’t go.”

Clearing his throat loudly, Louis looks away. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, I mean, it’s my birthday—”

“Covered that,” Louis says. “Butthole cake.”

“Yeah, um… Sorry again. But also, I haven’t opened the rest of your presents. And…” Harry searches for another reason for Louis to stay other than because Harry wants him to stay with him forever and ever and marry him and have babies and two dogs and three cats and possibly a rabbit. “And you said you were going to tell me something.” Louis ignores him and pulls his sheer shirt over his head. It makes Harry’s heart hurt, just thinking about Louis leaving him alone today of all days. “Plus, it’s like three in the afternoon. You can’t go out  _ now.” _

“I can do whatever I want, Harry,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows and staring him down as if daring him to argue. “And what I want and what you want are just… Never mind.”

“What?” Harry wants a drink. And a shower. And to hang out with his best friend and secret love of his life on his birthday. “What do you want?”

“You, idiot,” Louis snaps, stalking off through the house in his t-shirt and briefs. This time Harry stares at his bum the whole time because apparently that’s what Louis wants.

“Wait! What— You want me?” Harry chases him to the living room where Louis is attempting to pull on a pair of jeans that seem to be a bit too small. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis says, hopping and tugging on his too tight jeans that might actually belong to someone with a smaller ass. 

“Does too!” Harry shouts and Louis falls over onto the couch, trying to get his jeans on. Trapped with his jeans around his thighs, Louis can’t move at all when Harry throws himself on top of him. 

“Oof!” Louis wiggles underneath him, freeing his arms. “What the fuck?”

“Tell me,” Harry insists and grabs both of Louis’ wrists, pinning them above his head to keep him from smacking his face and pulling his hair. 

Louis blinks up at him, going slack in his grip, but then he narrows his eyes, and says, “No.”

“Why not?” Harry asks with a pout. 

“Because you were rude about my cake.”

_ “Louis,  _ it looks like a butthole covered in come, but I promise I’ll eat it if you tell me what you were going to say.”

“I hate you,” Louis says. 

“I feel like maybe, possibly, you might not mean that,” Harry says, leaning down to rest his forehead against Louis’, bumping their noses together. Up close, the blue of his eyes appears darker and Harry belatedly notices how close they are, and how clothed Louis  _ isn’t.  _

Suddenly it doesn’t seem that important to keep his feelings to himself anymore. 

“I’m sorry. Again. About what I said about the cake,” Harry whispers and rubs the tips of their noses together. “I only said it because I thought it was funny and because, um… sometimes you make me nervous.”

A mix of a snort and a laugh escapes Louis’ mouth and their lips brush together accidentally. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, pulling back a bit and releasing Louis’ arms. 

Louis’ gaze flickers from Harry’s eyes to his lips, and he says, “Sometimes you make me nervous too.”

And because it’s his birthday, Harry closes his eyes and makes a wish. For the first time in twenty-seven birthdays, his wish comes true. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds Louis staring back at him. With his arms free, he wraps them around Harry’s back, and heaves, rolling them both off of the couch and onto the floor. Harry knocks his head, but at least the carpet cushions the blow. 

“Ouch,” Harry whines, rubbing the back of his head, but he doesn’t have much time to complain before Louis’ lips are on his. It’s messy and actually pretty awful for a first kiss. His head hurts and he can’t figure out where to put his hands because when he slides them down Louis’ back he runs straight into Louis’ underwear, having forgotten that Louis’ jeans are stuck around his thighs. But then Louis hums, sounding happy to have Harry’s hands there, and Harry figures he might as well. 

Lifting his head slightly, Louis looks down at him, and says, “You were rude about my cake.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving Louis’ bum a squeeze. “But it really does look like a butthole drenched in come.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I mean… It  _ is  _ a pound cake.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [Here's a Tumblr post if you'd like to share :)](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/642389043843334144/pound-cake-by-kingsofeverything-its-harrys)


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